


Victory tastes like honey

by Kurotsuki_no_hana



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Decepticon's victory, Dubious Consent, Light Bondage, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:17:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurotsuki_no_hana/pseuds/Kurotsuki_no_hana
Summary: TF-P. The war has finally come to an end, and the Decepticons can at last enjoy themselves. And Knockout is quite please with the outcome.





	Victory tastes like honey

After centuries of war and battles, of losses and victories, it was finally time to put an end to it. They managed to ambush Prime and his little clique of Autobots, and after using special cuffs on Optimus Prime … well, the rest of the battle was relatively easy to win. And the better in all that; he just needs a wash and a little buffing! Oh he will have to clean his systems of dust, but nothing too serious. Megatron has it worse since he lost one of his arms … again. At least it wasn’t destroyed and he could easily patch him up. Heck, he had seen far worse since working for the Decepticons!  
But now that the war has come to an end, he will have more time to himself. Hopefully. He would _love_ to have time to enjoy his new toy.

Speaking of toys …

“I sincerely hope you are not too uncomfortable.” He said to the ‘bot currently in his clutch. “I hope you can forgive me for the cuffs, but I doubt you would stay if I was to remove them.” His optics lit up and his smirk widened at the glare sent in his direction.

“Now, don’t give me that look! He tut-ed. “I will not hurt you … much.” This time the blue optics widened, and he chuckled. Being one of the few mech who could keep up with him in his alt mode, he was also the cutest, he thought, seeing the other’s expression. 

The yellow and black ‘bot – well, ex ‘bot now – was lying on the berth in one of the private rooms attached to the med bay (for when he has patients who required a calm atmosphere to recuperate), servos tied up to the end of its frame. The mech could struggle all he wanted, he made sure they wouldn’t come off. 

“Where are the others?! What have you decepti’scums done to them?!”

“My my, what a mouth you have here ~” Knockout taunted, an optic’s ridge rising with mockery. The young Autobot’s scout glared in respond. He sighed and then shrugged. He could always tell him. It wasn’t like he could escape and, even if he did manage to, he would not go far. So he decided to entertain him for the moment; 

“Well, Lord Megatron has some unfinished business with Prime, Shockwave took the two wheeler femme with him (he personally didn’t see what the scientist could want with the fragging femme. He did not forget what happen in the tunnels!), and Soundwave left with the little newbie … Smokescreen was it? Whatever,” Knockout cut before Bumblebee could say anything. “That’s all. I don’t know as for the others, and sincerely I don’t care.” 

And it was not like they could escape either. The cuffs they used were generally used on Cybertron for violent criminals to limit their movements and drain some of their energy, rendering them nearly powerless. Like stasis cuffs, but much more efficient. It was a difficult process, but it was not long after their Lord managed to put them on Prime that the victory was made possible. The others were next to fall, one by one rendered helpless thank to them and easily captured. Needless to say, it was a nice change for them.

“But enough about the others,” He said, a smirk forming on his mouth plates. “You should be more worried about you and why I took you here.” He said as he slowly approached the berth, circling it with measured steps before stopping near the other’s head. 

“But you must already have a little idea, don’t you,” he whispered in the scout’s audial receptor, the black and yellow mech flinching away from him as much as he could as he brought his servo-turned-buzz-saw toward the younger’s neck cables, letting it hovering just millimeters from all the wires and cables. He chuckled darkly before retracting it and reforming his servo, standing up in the same movement. “Fortunately for you, it is not the reason as to why I brought you here.”

Bumblebee felt his cooling fans kicking on slightly due to two reasons; one because the ‘con didn’t seems to want to dissect him (at least he hoped … he has heard enough rumors about Knockout and his love for … experimentation), and two because he now knew that at least some of the others were still alive. Now if only he could find a way to break out of these fragging cuffs! 

But he must admit he was surprised when Megatron and his group made them prisoners and didn’t terminate them immediately. He thought it would have been the first thing the Decepticon’s Lord would do. 

Instead they were led to the Nemesis. 

He was nearly unconscious by then, and he must have briefly lost consciousness because next thing he knew, he was trapped on this fragging medical berth. But it was not what horrified him the most. No, what he truly worried about was that he was in the servos of Knockout, one known for his sadistic streak and maniacal tendencies. That and his love for race. 

He jumped slightly when he felt a servo tracing his thigh and jerked his leg away, or rather tried, seeing all he managed to do was move it a little, to the amusement of the other and his own dismay.   
“Don’t touch me!” He snarled through his facial mask, his optics narrowing in anger at the mirth the other was showing. 

Knockout chuckled in answer at the fury he could see in the other, quite sure the little scout would have jump him (and not the way he wanted, sadly) if he wasn’t restrain. Ah well, he would have to be patient. And fortunately for him, one has to be in his profession. Humming in though, he continued tracing the leg, going up and down the plating slowly and playing with the wires underside, his victim shivering at his touches. His lips twitched upward upon seeing the other trying to control his reactions, and he bent down to kiss and nip at his chest plating. He caught a thick neck cable with his dermas and nipped at it, his own vents kicking on slightly hearing the muffled moan of pleasure. Soon. _Soon_ he won’t be able to contain his cries and pleas for more, he promised himself, smirking around the cable and pulling at it with his dentas. 

Bumblebee hissed, clenching his jaw and biting his glossa to stop any sound from leaving him, only partially succeeding. Each touch from the medic was sending delicious electricity coursing through his body to his spark chamber, and he could already feel his body heat up to the treatment. Frag, nobody had ever touched him like that! He was always so focus on the war, on perfecting his skills that he rarely thought about it. Sure he had explored (he was of age after all!), but he hadn’t really needed it. 

But now he didn’t have the choice. 

He gasped when a servo traced one of his sensitive doorwings, and he must admit the ‘Con’s CMO knew where to touch. He idly wondered if all of this was from data pads or from experience. Knowing Knockout, it could be either one of them … or the two. 

“Don’t do that,” Knockout cooed in his audios before taking his face between his free servo and turning it to face him. Sharp digits started searching for the manual switch keeping his mask in place, and it didn’t take long before he felt rather than heard the quiet hiss from the metal plating retracting, baring his lower face to the Medic. “Let me hear you.” And then he kissed him. 

Bumblebee made a noise of surprise at this, and again instinctively tried to push away the red sport car, only to gasp softly when the cuffs burnt his wrists slightly. Knockout certainly didn’t miss the opportunity to trust his glossa into his mouth, and he whined at the strange feeling. He jumped a little when he felt a servo tracing the seams of his hips, the sharp digits a little too close from his codpiece for comfort, and his eyes widened when they latched on the manual switch, the panel retracting and letting his spike and valve at the mercy of the Doctor. He felt his face burn. It was not happening. It _couldn’t_ be happening!

Knockout chuckled seeing the other’s reaction but took pity of him. While he knew that some of the Decepticons wouldn’t care, he wasn’t one to stop so low as to rape someone, even an Autobot. True, he would torture him or her, it was his in nature after all, but he would never go that far. And he knew that Megatron was the same. He could not stop his men when he was away, but he never condoned this when under his supervision. They were the ‘bad boys’, yes, but they were not the monsters they were pictured as (well … maybe not the DJD, but they were a special case. _Nobody_ wanted to be on their list and even the others stay clear from them!). 

“Calm down, sweatspark,” he murmured while tracing the underside of the pressuring spike with a digit, cupping the other’s face with the other servo in a calming gesture. 

“Re-,” Bumblebee swallowed, his tank churning at the idea of being used like a mere pleasurebot, before speaking a little more forcefully, “Release-me this instant you fragger! I w-will not let you use me like a fragging toy!” Okay, so he stuttered a little, but it was alright. He kept his optics on the other defiantly, but the Decepticon only smirked. Then the servo that was keeping his face in place went to his neck and _squeezed_. He choked under the pressure on his main lines, and he gazed fearfully at the mech who had shifted and was by now straddling him, his red optics seemingly glowing with sadistic pleasure. 

“Don’t be mistaken, little Bee,” he purred, his sharp digits caressing the neck cables almost tenderly, if the mech doing it was not who he was. “I _will_ do what I want with you. You are mine now, and you _will_ consent to me. An eye for an eye; don’t fight, and I will make you writhed and cry in sinful pleasure. Resist, and … well, you are a clever mech.” He chuckled, his dentas flashing before releasing his throat. 

“Do we have a deal?” He asked mockingly. He didn’t want to hurt the little scout, but he never was against a little pain amid the pleasure. And it was not like he will make this painful. The little ‘bot will be begging for more even if he was fighting it now, of that he was sure. The question was; how long would it take? 

Bumblebee could only nod in acquiescence before closing his optics and turning his head away. Maybe if he didn’t look it will be over soon? He felt the servo going lower; lightly tracing his chest, his touches featherlike, mouth following the same patterns, licking, nipping, igniting fire on its path, and then his legs were gripped and spread. Mortified – and a little curious – he opened his eyes to see what the other was going to do to him. 

He didn’t have long to wait.

A cry escaped his throat as his spike was engulfed in a hot and wet cavern, and he could not stop himself from thrusting his hips against the ‘Con pleasuring him. Primus it felt wrong, oh so wrong, but his body was already starting to heat up, his cooling fans getting louder within seconds as the other was moving his talented glossa up and down his now fully pressurized spike. Self-servicing never felt this good! He jumped and whined when he felt a sharp digit trace the rim of his port and its outer nodes, sending small burst of electricity coursing through his spark and the rest of his body. It felt good, but he couldn’t stop thinking about who exactly was giving him this pleasure. No, he couldn’t, because if he did, then he would have really lost, even if his frame was telling him to surrender. These conflicts feeling were slowly driving him insane. 

Knockout smirked around the hard spike in his mouth, swallowing the small beads of fluid escaping it and humming at the taste, drawing another sweet whimper from the other. His little bee was so sweet trying to resist him; his interface panel was beginning to feel tight with his own spike hardening in its housing. But he would have to prepare the other first, to make him drown in pleasure before he would even considerate breaching his valve. And oh does his valve feel tight! He traced the outer nods a little more, catching them with the end of his digits playfully before inserting one. His little bee made a strangle cry and bucked his hips to take more of it in, gasping when Knockout hummed in satisfaction around his spike before pulling away. 

“For one who doesn’t want it, you sure don’t look like it” He grinned, slowly thrusting his finger in and out while pumping the other’s spike with slow movements, catching the little beads of lubricant with the tip of his finger before smearing it around the shaft. The other grounder trembled under his touches, gasping and writhing on the berth, and it took all of his control to not bury himself inside this tight valve right there. 

“I- I don’t … wanAhhh!” He started, only to end up moaning when a second finger was added to the other, the two thrusting slowly but profoundly, stretching him. 

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t lie to me,” chided Knockout, rackling the end of his digits against some sensitive inner nods in punishment. “Now, tell-me what you really want.”

“No … mngh … stop …” Feeling the two fingers moving inside him, thrusting and curling was making his mind go blank, and it did not help that Knockout kept stimulating his spike. If the Medic didn’t stop soon he was going to overload! 

Then, it suddenly stopped. All of it. From the servo on his spike to the fingers violating his valve. “What- ?”

“Well, you _did_ ask me to stop, didn’t you?” Knockout asked with a devious smirk, his voice, deep with desire, sending shiver through his frame. His valve contracted at the empty feeling, wanting the fingers back inside it and possibly something bigger too, and his cooling fans were desperately trying to cool down his overheating frame. He turned his head to the side, hiding whatever feeling his face was showing. His will was crumbling – fast – and he was clinging to what was left of his pride and dignity before the ‘con take it too. He had been so close to overload too, and being deprived of it was not helping.

Knockout watched the other mech with a devilish smirk on his face plates, and absently licked his fingers clean from the lubricant, shuddering. Playing with the young scout, physically and mentally, making him gasp and moan, watching all his emotions, watching him resist, watching him fall … he shuddered again. It was arousing. He could feel his interface panel heating up, his spike hardened against it almost painfully. He was looking so delicious like this; bound immobile and spread open for him, just waiting for him to frag him. Oh yes, he will love making this one his. Finally relenting, he released his spike, the cold air of the chamber almost making him moan and buck, and he traced a servo on it, slowly, barely touching, groaning when his fingers encircled it and started moving up and down, imagining how it would feel to be inside the tight valve presented to him. 

Bumblebee flinched when he heard the medic groan, his mind immediately betraying him and coming up with several images, all as perverted as the others whereas all he wanted was to forget where he was. Swallowing, he onlined his optics, and to his dismay felt a gush of lubricant leak from his valve at the sight, staining the berth beneath. They were both physically about the same height, but Knockout was longer than him and a tiny bit larger. His though went about how it would feel to have this hard spike stretching his valve, and he blushed, his face plates reddening even more when Knockout saw him staring. He turned his head away.

“Aww~ Don’t be shy, sweetspark, you can look all you want! The Medic said, lowering his body till his mouth was near the other’s audio receptor, a servo gently stroking the bound wrists. “You could touch, too, if you were to ask nicely.”

Bumblebee turned his head so fast he almost head-butt the other, a flustered glare catching the sultry look from the other. “Why would I even want to- Ahhn!!” Moaning, he arched his back and barely registered another moan as his spike thrusted against another, the friction sending shivers through his circuits, the movements slow enough to tease, but fast enough to make him gasp in pleasure. “You were saying?” Knockout taunted with his own sigh of pleasure, one hand on the other’s hips and the other supporting his weigh near his prey’s head. All Bumblebee did in response was gasp and moan, clenching his dentas and his legs as much as he could, but it did little to alleviate the growing need in his chassis. 

“Pl-Please.” He couldn’t stand the teasing anymore. It was driving him mad with desire and pleasure, and it being from a Decepticon wasn’t even important anymore to him. His body. His processor. His valve. His spark. It was all burning hot and he couldn’t stand it anymore! He wanted … needed it. “K-Knockout … please.”

Knockout shivered in delight, a smirk gracing his lips. There. He was almost there. “Please what, dear Bumblebee?” He cooed, “I won’t know until you tell me.”

Bumblebee bit his lips, scrambling for what was left of his forces, but another, hard, thrust of the red sportcar against his spike made him sob in pleasure.

“Please …” He sobbed, tears of shame and pent-up desire appearing in the corner of his optics. “P-please, f-frag me.”

Music to his audios. A shiver coursing through his frame, Knockout gave a feral growl, placed the head of his spike to the wet entrance, and thrusted hard inside the bounded frame, lips capturing the cry that escape his little bee in a searing kiss, glossa mapping the inside and swallowing the moans, cries and whimpers that were coming from it. Pulling out till only the head remained inside, he wait a moment before thrusting back in, nodes catching and caressing his spike in delicious ways. Oh yes, he will keep this one.

Bumblebee arched, the initial burn rapidly fading into a tingling feeling as pleasure started building with each thrust in his valve, his frame singing for more. Primus, it seems that with each brush his nods were set aflame! He couldn’t stop moaning and gasping, his vents barely managing keeping his frame from overheating! But a feeling of shame was still here, deep inside, and he did feel bad for enjoying this, thinking about what the others would think if they saw him like this, demanding more like a two-credit pleasurebot, but … A hoarse cry left his vocalizer as the nodes deep inside were touched, his head thrown back and biting his lips to stifle the noises he was making. He could feel his spark pulsing inside its chamber, something cowling and building, growing, and he automatically tried to reach out to the one causing it. The Medic, seemingly sensing it, smirked down at him and, without stopping, reach out to unclasp the cuffs and pull the Autobot back up with him, changing his position so that the young scout was bouncing on his laps, lips caught in a deep kiss. 

Gasping as much to the new position than the spike seemingly slipping deeper inside him, Bumblebee hold to Knockout’s shoulder plates like his life depended on it, whining at the white fingers teasing the inner-circuit of the small of his back and his door wings. 

“So tight …” He heard Knockout sigh in his audio receptors, “So perfect …” 

Despite himself, he felt his face plate burning and a spark of … something, at the words. Primus, what was he doing to him?! A particularly hard thrust had him biting down a cry, and the only way he found was by sinking his dentas in the Medic’s shoulder. Hissing at the sharp pain, Knockout growled and sped up his thrusts, forcing the other down on the berth again to gain more level. He usually hates it when his paint was scratch, but it only fuels him more when it came to fragging some bot’, his pleasure heightening and the coil inside him tightening more and more. Grunting as the valve around him clench, he looked at the glaze look in the other’s optics and smirked. 

“Are you going to overloead, Bee? Are you going to overloead from a dirty Decepticon’s touch? Where is your pride, hmm?” He taunted, deft fingers pumping the leaking spike and holding the other’s hips with the other servo, almost denting them. 

“No … I’m …!” Primus it felt so good! He couldn’t hold it anymore! His insides were burning and his spark was fluttering so much it was like he would burst at any moment! He was … he was …

“Then _overload_ for me.”

His back arched suddenly, mouth opened in a cry that resounded in the room and almost covered Knockout own cry as the rippling walls of the almost painfully tightened valve triggered his own overload, fluids bursting inside and filling him to the point he thought he would overload a second time. He felt back on the berth, completely spent, his spark strangely sate and unable to lift even a digit. He didn’t even react when Knockout pulled out of him, his mind going blank and his optics slowly shutting down. The last thing he saw before falling in recharge was two bright red optics looking into his. 

..........................................................

Knockout let a smile grace his lips at the sight of the out-cold scout before stretching and replacing his interface panel in place, but not before tidying himself and his new lover a little bit. After all, he needs to be always presentable in case of an emergency, and he never knew when he could be called. 

Leaving his room – and placing a code at the entrance in case his little Bee would wake up, even if he doubted it – he gingerly made his way to the rec-room. 

“Ah, Knockout,” Greet his audios the moment he entered the place, “Finally.”

The smirk on his lips plate widened, and he dip his helm in greeting to his Lord, the mech reclining on a chair like he never did usually, a pleased look in his optics and general demeanor. And he could see he was not the only one … ‘pleased’ by the end of the war. Everyone present – heck, even Soundwave! Who knew the silent mech could play DJ so well! – was partying like there was no tomorrow. “I take it all went well?” He asked the warmonger (or is it ex-warmonger now?) before taking a cube of high-grade and sitting on a nearby chair. He didn’t have to wait for the respond in the form of a satisfied smirk on these scared lips-plates. 

“Let’s just say it is good to see the war finally over.” Megatron answered, eyes briefly glazing as he though back of his Prime submitting to him after so much vorns. “Now we just need to rebuild the Omega Lock, but I am certain it will not take long.” He sighed and sat back a little more, the seat creaking a little under his weight. Yes, life was good. Now all he had to be wary about is the remaining Autobots discarded a little everywhere in the galaxy. But that could wait.


End file.
